As The Leaf Falls
by DepComLukas
Summary: Matthew is nothing like the character in his favorite book. He isn't brave, daring or interesting. And yet, he continues to love the book more and more every time he reads it. And he loves the way the Victorian author worded every sentence. What he wouldn't give to hear Arthur Kirkland speak in person.
1. Prologue

Libraries were full of books. Books were full of words. And words were full of meaning. Meaning that a human being expressed simply because they wanted to. Of course, professional authors also needed money, but nobody could direct how they worded each sentence. And the best authors were always full of emotion, detail and feeling. And it was amazing.

Matthew remembered the reason why his mother chose that name. It was the name of a mysterious character in a book. The character in the book was brave, daring, interesting and everything that Matthew had always dreamed to be but never was. He could never be heroic or noticeable, but for some reason, he always had a copy of the book in his bag. Perhaps it was a reminder that if he tried, he could turn out to be as great as his fictional role model. And that was why he was reading said book now.

The Canadian sat in the library he worked at. Reading every page word for word, as if it was his first experience with the captivating tale. Despite not having the largest knowledge of books, he always claimed that this book was the greatest book in history. He wasn't bias or anything, but this story had it all. It had adventure, suspense, romance and the slightest bit of humour. It was a tale that was impossible yet the way the author had worded it made it all too real.

He was reaching his favourite part of the story when his phone rang.

"Hey Mattie! You need to come over now, I have the coolest thing to show you! Ever!" Matthew winced as his brother, Alfred, began to yell through the device.

"But I was getting to the good part. Do I have to?" Matthew replied, trying to not sound too whiney.

"Dude, are you seriously re-reading that old book again? That book is for the dinosaurs. Besides, what I have is way cooler!"

"Fine, I'll be there in a minute," the Canadian placed a bookmark on his page. Disappointed at how his engagement of the book was brutally murdered by his brother. He stood up and proceeded to walk through the empty hallways of the gigantic institute of technology.


	2. Chapter 1

Matthew was uncertain how he always managed to find his brother in the chaotic mess labelled a lab. Alfred was the youngest scientist in the institute, but somehow had enough respect to get Matthew a job as the buildings librarian, something he didn't really want to do but was too polite to decline the offer. Even so, he found the American working on a rather complex device.

"Alfred?"

The said American jumped slightly when he noticed his brother standing behind him.

"Mattie! Man, you took a while," Alfred laughed, going to a nearby desk covered in strange instruments. "Hey, have you seen that one TV show where the dog turns into a tree? Cause I was watching it and there's the guy in it that totally reminds me of you,"

"Did you make me come all the way here for a dog-tree?" Matthew asked, rolling his eyes.

"What? Of course not," Alfred moved over to a large computer and began entering a code into a strange program. "So, do you want to see the most amazing thing ever? Obviously, you do, so I'll show you!"

Matthew sighed at how energetic his brother was. It was almost hard to believe Alfred had graduated high school a year early with flying colors. The Canadian watched as the taller male went over to grab a flower.

The flower was ridiculously large, growing over 2 meters in a strange oval shape, the petals were a faint purple color, contrasting to the dark shade of green belonging to the leaves. Alfred placed the pot in Matthew's arms, almost dropping it due to its unexpected weight.

"What do you think?" Alfred asked as the Canadian admired the beautiful plant. "It's a purple orontales macots, a member of the aratium family,"

"I've never heard of that plant before," Matthew whispered. "Did you create it or something?"

"Nope, it's completely natural, no artificial help in its growth,"

"Must be incredibly rare then,"

"It's been extinct for 1.7 billion years,"

Matthew almost dropped the plant as the words left Alfred's mouth. Extinct? How could it be extinct when he was holding the very thing in front of him? This was impossible. He could only think of one word to say.

"How?"

Alfred's grin widened as he took the plant from his brothers grasp and placed it somewhere safe. He dragged his brother around the many tables, chemicals and inventions to an old-fashioned projector. Turning the lights off in the process, Alfred played the film. Matthew watched in confusion as an odd animation of two people walking was displayed onto the white wall in front of him.

Alfred stood in front of the wall and began to talk over the unheard conversation of the two animation.

"I have a theory." The American began. "The world as we know it is endlessly heading towards the future, there's no way to rewind it. But somewhere, I think there's a parallel universe that's always one second behind. And a universe that's always one second forward. In conclusion to this theory, I believe there's a parallel universe for every second from the beginning of time to the end of it. New universes being created every time a second passes, all leading up to replace this second as this universe eventually replaces the destruction of time!" Alfred's blue eyes sparkled with excitement as his brother attempted to take in all the information.

"You've been watching British TV again," Matthew stated. He didn't necessarily like the idea of the universe ending, and the fact Alfred had stated it twice was quite disturbing.

"Ugh, just listen to me," Alfred continued. "Either way, there's also the possibility that our universe will turn into the beginning of time and everything repeats itself," Alfred went over to a hidden corner where another projector had a film identical to the one that was playing. He re-winded both films and played them both at the same time. Or at least attempted to. After quickly glancing at both animations, Matthew eventually realized one of the films was off by one second.

"So, our Universes are like multiple films played one after the other, only to be re-played when their done?" Matthew tried to wrap his mind around this impossible theory that Alfred had come up with.

"Yup, and I invented a machine that can travel between these universes,"

Matthew stared in awe as he stepped inside the giant metal machine. It wasn't very neat, nor safe, as well as ridiculously complex.

"What do you think?" Alfred asked, clearly proud of his hard work.

"Is it safe for living creatures?"

"Yeah, how'd you think I got that plant?" Alfred said, almost insulted.

"It's incredible," Matthew muttered.

Alfred almost jumped as he heard his brothers compliment.

"This is going to change the lives of everyone!" Alfred went over to a screen that had a similar program to the computer had been typing in earlier. "I've only had one trip into the future, only two years forward, but for some reason the machine is having trouble with unrecorded history, and because of that, it can only take around 2 more trips in the past and 2 more trips in the future,"

"Well, what happens two years in the future?" Matthew asked, growing more curious by the second. Especially when Alfred gave his response.

"You'll see," the American swiftly went back to his device.

"So, if you've been to both the past and future, are you not the Alfred from this universe?" Matthew asked, his face grew sadder as the thought over took his mind. Alfred looked his brother in the eye.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones, and I'm your brother, no matter what universe," Matthew nodded and Alfred went back to the computer. "I wouldn't share this information with anyone but you,"

"Really?" Matthew smiled widely.

"Well," Alfred avoided his brother's eyes. "You're the first person I shared this information with, so, there's that. But by next week, everyone will know!" The American laughed as if he were the villain in a bad kid's film.

Matthew sighed as he continued to watch his brother rant on and on about how much money he'd make. Eventually leaving without Alfred noticing. His brain was starting to hurt from all that information and needed to relax. Might as well continue to read the book he loved so dearly.

 _As the Leaf Falls_

 _Written by Arthur J. Kirkland_

 _Originally Published 13_ _th_ _October 1897 in London, England_

* * *

 ** _I apologize if this chapter contained too much science. Especially if any of the information is incorrect. If it makes anybody feel any better. This takes place in an alternate universe different to that of Hetalia's Universe and our own. Isn't that fun? Not only do we have a universe for every second, but also for every fanfiction._**

 ** _I don't own Hetalia. If i did, it would probably be around the same... but less funny..._**


	3. Chapter 2

Alfred smiled and the numerous amount of people who had turned up. He wasn't the only person to be presenting their invention on that day. No, there were at least several other scientists who would be on stage before him.

When they were scheduling the order of who would go up on stage, Alfred instantly called dibs on going last. Nobody was sure if it was because he didn't want to distract everyone else presenting with nervousness, knowing they would never be able to compete with his machine, or because he was nervous himself and was merely hiding it behind an egotistical smile.

Either way, since Matthew was the only person who knew anything about the machine, Alfred convinced him to guard it. Apparently not trusting another scientist whom he had met previously from Russia.

But, being the nice, polite and generous brother he was, Matthew agreed to keep an eye on it whilst Alfred watched the others. The Canadian knew he would hardly understand the scientific terms anyway. Not that he lacked knowledge on the subject, he did work in a library used by scientific researchers, but he was still trying to wrap his head around Alfred's explanation of time travel from last week.

"I'll be in the East wing if you need me… or in the crowd… or buying a burger… anyway, just come find me if the machine goes weird," Alfred informed before quickly running off.

"Okay," Matthew attempted to call out in response, however, he was quite certain that his voice had been no louder than a whisper. He shook his head, ignoring the way his confidence began sinking towards rock bottom. Before it could, he took out his book and opened it to the page he was on.

Perhaps it was the fact he shared the same name as this character who was described with such positive and heroic adjectives, but it always boosted his self-esteem. At the same time, he knew the reason wasn't because of his name. He knew his mother also named him after her favorite teacher in high school. So, another reason why this book must have this effect on him was because of the way everything was worded.

Matthew sighed as he reached one of his favorite parts in the book. So, captivated by the scene, he didn't even notice that he was reading it out loud.

" _Emerald eyes were completely hypnotized as the pleasant blend of violet blue orbs overlooked Arta's paralyzed form._

' _Are you alright?' Matthew asked. His voice was able to calm any orphan's cry. She felt him smirk as she remained hesitant to reply._

 _She certainly wasn't alright, but how could she notify the young man of her injuries if she could barely breathe?_ "

Matthew felt his smile growing as he turned the page, he searched for a nearby seat so he could continue reading more comfortably. As soon as he spotted one, he went back to reading, using the corner of his eyes on arm to find the chair and sit down in it.

" _Matthew approached her slowly, making sure not to startle her already terrified form with any sudden movements._

' _It's alright to be scared, after what you've been though. If you weren't scared you'd be inhumane. But no beauty such as yours could possibly be native to this earth,'_

 _Arta took his hand, quavering as she stood up onto her hurt knee._

' _There's nothing special about how I look, you waste your breath trying to convince me,' she muttered._

 _Matthew chuckled softly._

' _And you waste your breath with lies,'_

 _All danger around them disappeared as the two remained still. The distance between them the only disturbance, until-_ "

The Canadian jumped as his phone rang in his pocket. Dropping his book on one of the many surfaces around him, so he could answer whoever was calling.

"Hello?" Matthew asked.

"Hey! That Ivan dude totally messed up his presentation, I even filmed it!" Alfred laughed on the over side of the line.

"Is that allowed?"

"Chilax bro! It's not like I filmed the entire thing, I got nothing seriously important just the- hey are you okay? I'm hearing weird noises,"

Matthew looked up at the plethora of flashing lights. Alfred's voice becoming more and more inaudible due to static. Matthew fell to the ground, looking around him as he noticed he was inside the actual machine.

"Alfred!" he yelled, hoping he was loud enough for his brother to hear. But the call just ended itself as the signal ceased to exist.

Matthew tried to stand within the shaking machine. Noticing his book and pushed several buttons that had entered a weird code into the odd program.

The chaos of the machine only continued. Matthew grabbed his book and phone, shoving the two into his bag, and began fiddling with the buttons. Probably not the best idea, but what else does one do in a panic.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," Matthew muttered as more and more code came up on the screen. An inanimate voice, speaking to him.

" _ **London, England. September 19**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 1896."**_

Matthew repeatedly lost his balance, falling over, even feeling as if it was the machine rolling over instead of him. Leaning against a nearby wall as everything toppled over, he covered his head with his arms as he felt a large thump.

He waited. Slowly removing his arms from his head, and opened his eyes.

"Sweet maple syrup," he muttered before staring at broken bulbs and buttons that had been caused by… whatever just happened.

He slowly stood up, still leaning against the wall before approaching what he remembered to be the door. Smoke covered the floor, and small sparks of broken wires blinked ever now and again.

He cautiously took the handle in his grasp before slowly opening it.

The door was yanked open by another person wearing odd clothing. A person Matthew didn't recognise. A person holding a very sharp looking kitchen knife, pointing at him.

A mop of unkempt blond hair sat upon a pale head. Emerald green eyes accompanied by unnaturally thick eyebrows. And a very noticeable British accent began to make itself heard.

"Who the bloody hell are you?"


	4. Chapter 3

"Matthew? Hello, bro, are you there?" Alfred asked into his device. He didn't know why he continued to ask when he could tell the line was already dead.

"Having technical difficulties Alfred?" A tall man, taller than most men at least, loomed over the American. "I hope that these technical difficulties continue through to your presentation," The innocent smile the man wore as he spoke made Alfred sick. Yet he replied with his signature smile.

"Haha, I'm sure that if it was even possible for me to make even the slightest mistake, everyone would be too busy laughing at your failure Ivan, that or cheering at my scientific victory," Alfred laughed, turning so that he could go on stage. But was stopped by something the Russian said.

"I wonder how deep that cockiness runs into your blood," Ivan smiled before walking off.

Slightly confused, the American headed to the back room to look for Matthew and his machine. He had 3 minutes to prepare, he was sure that whatever damage his brother could have possibly done wouldn't be too much of an issue.

* * *

Matthew could do nothing but stare. He was somehow outside in an open field, and a blond wearing strange clothing was threatening him with a knife. Was he dragged to a convention by Alfred again?

"Are you mute or something? Who the bloody hell, are you?" The man stretched the knife closer to Matthew's neck.

"M-Matthew," the said Canadian stuttered. How could he not? He was terrified, confused, and how obvious was it that he was being threatened.

"What are you doing here? This land is owned by the Bonnefoy household, you have no right to be here,"

"I didn't mean to, I was just in my… thingy… I was just about to-" Matthew paused when the Brit tilted his head in confusion.

"Are you a foreigner?"

"Um… maybe? Why?"

"You're pronouncing words weirdly,"

"What? I'm pronouncing words just fine," The Canadian responded, feeling rather offended.

"It's ' _about'_ not _'aboot',_ " The Brit stated.

"Seriously? That joke is just old," Matthew muttered.

"You think I'm joking?" The man scoffed. "Look who has a knife pointed at them. Choose your words carefully boy,"

"I'm taller than you,"

"That literally has nothing to do with this conversation," The Brit frowned, folding his spare arm across his chest. "Knife! Stab! Death! Does that sound like a good future to you?"

"N-no sir," Matthew shook his head. The man rolled his eyes and grabbed the Canadian by his hood and pressed the tip of his knife to his back, just barely cutting the material.

"Move,"

* * *

Matthew was incredibly disturbed when the Brit tied him to a chair. He remembered walking through the back entrance to what seemed to be a very large and expensive building. In fact, most of the things he'd seen were expensive.

"So, 'Matthew'," The Brit began. "What's with your odd clothing?"

"My clothing's not odd, if anything your clothing's weird,"

"Don't insult me when you're clearly the abnormal one here!" From what Matthew could tell, this man had a very bad temper.

"This is just some big misunderstanding, I didn't mean to be on your property-"

"I'm sorry, but do I look French to you?" The man said, offended once more. "This is Bonnefoy residence. I'm a Kirkland, don't mix me with my cheese-smelling boss,"

Matthew paused at the name. Kirkland. Where had he heard that before?

"Arthur J. Kirkland," The Canadian muttered, remembering his favourite authors name. The Brit stared at Matthew for a second, not blinking, not moving.

"How do you know my name?" Arthur demanded. "Tell me now!"

"What year is it?" Matthew asked, ignoring the previous questioning.

"What are you? Thick? How do you know my name?"

"The date, I need to know!"

"19th September 1896! How do you know my name?" Arthur was about to grab the knife when another male entered the room.

"Arthur, what the heck is this commotion?" The man had a French accent that he was clearly trying to hide, as well as much fancier clothing compared to Arthur.

"Francis, I apologize but you see, um," The Brit stuttered as the other man noticed to the boy tied up.

"I know you're a kinky bastard but please refrain from unleashing your sexual tension whilst in my home," Francis sighed.

"I'm not! I found this boy on your property! You should be thanking me you bloody frog!" Arthur yelled.

"And you should thank me for not threatening to fire you every time you insult me," Francis smiled, pushing past the Brit to face the Canadian. "I'm sorry, however, I don't really want any thieves on my property. Don't mind me, but I'll be calling the police,"

"Wait, please don't," Matthew called out, stopping Francis in his tracks.

"And, why shouldn't I? A boy wearing suspicious clothing was just found by my secretary, apparently sneaking onto my property,"

"Um, _mais,_ _je_ _peux_ _parler_ _le_ _français._ "

The two older men stared at the boy, almost pitying him.

"Well we can see that," Arthur stated.

"Unlike you," Francis poked the Brits head. "I'm surprised that sentence even made sense in that petite brain of yours,"

"Shut up frog,"

"So, _Mathieu_ , _comment_ _as-tu appris_ _le_ _français_ _?_ "

" _J'ai parlé français depuis_ _ma naissance,"_ The Canadian explained.

" _Pourquoi étais-tu_ _sur ma_ _propriété_ _?"_

" _J'ai_ _été amené_ _ici_ _par_ _une_ _machine,"_

" _Quel_ _genre de machine_ _vous apporte_ _à ma_ _propriété_ _?"_

" _Une machine du temps,"_

" _Sacre_ _blue,"_ Francis stood still. Shocked at what Matthew had just told him. The idea was completely impossible, yet, Francis had every urge to believe the strange boy he just met. "Arthur, don't call the police. Matthew will be staying with you,"

"What?" Arthur asked, shocked. "You just forgive him like that? What did he even say to you?"

"That is for the French to know and the British to find out," Francis smirked. "Besides, I can tell he meant no harm, no criminal can have such stylish hair,"

"You can't judge people based on their hairstyle!" Arthur counted back. Francis rolled his eyes, poking at Arthur's bed hair.

"Elegant, wavy hair: Romantic aristocrat. Messy, unkempt hair: Stressed and angry secretary," The older male stated. The Brit smacked the Frenchman's hands away from his head.

"Why do I have to take care of him?"

"Because you're younger than me, you're lonelier than me, and you get paid by me," Francis smiled. "Besides, he seems like he can cook better than you,"

"Oh, shut up, you git,"

"Enjoy," The Frenchman winked before leaving the room.

Arthur turned to face Matthew. Eventually, the Brit moved behind him and untied the rope holding him to the chair.

"Thank you," Matthew mumbled. Arthur remained quiet. "Um, I'm sorry if I'm causing you any trouble, I honestly don't mean to,"

"How-" Arthur looked up, his emerald eyes piercing into Matthew's very soul. "-do you know my name?" He waited patiently for his answer.

"I know because," Matthew searched his mind for the best words to choose. "I love you,"

* * *

 **I DON'T SPEAK FRENCH! I have been learning French since I was 3 and continued to learn it for 9 years. And you know what? I can speak more German! I don't even learn German!**

 **So as an apology for having to use Google Translate, here's an interesting fact: When William the Conqueror took over, French became the official language of medieval England... okay it didn't, but it was sort of a second language for some 'commoners' and the majority of the upper class spoke it. But William was actually quite chill and felt like preserving the English language. So, if it weren't for that I'd probably be typing in French and wouldn't have this mess in the first place. Then again, it would also be much harder to write this fanfic.**

 **Whelp, that fact was completely useless.**

 **EDIT: I also tried to get my sorta-french-speaking-but-not-really-cause-he-is-learning-spanish-now-uncle to fix as much as he could... which is probably not a lot but I can't tell because the only thing I remember about one of my French teachers is that she gave me a lift to school twice, Idky, but she was actually quite nice and her car was very cool.. at least that's what 9-year-old me thought as my mom didn't have a car... she still doesn't have a car...**

 **I don't own Hetalia. If I did... it probably wouldn't last.**


	5. Chapter 4

"W-what?"

Matthew soon realised the exact words that he said as a faint scarlet overthrew Arthur's pale face.

"-your work!" Matthew said quickly, heat rushing to his cheeks. "I love your work!"

"My work? I'm a secretary, that makes no sense,"

"A secretary? But, you're Arthur Kirkland, you're an author," Matthew was completely puzzled by the situation. "You're quite possibly the greatest author in the world,"

"I don't know how you know my name, but you must be confusing me with someone else," Arthur sighed. "Follow me, it's a long ride across London so if you're staying with me then we best be off,"

The two exited to room, continuing down the hallway in silence. They walked past a far more elegant area of the building, reaching a study, not quite as elegant but it seemed neat and practical. Matthew waited for Arthur to enter and collect an oddly shaped bag before gesturing him to follow once more.

They eventually made their wait to a large hallway, standing at the top of a gorgeously designed staircase. Matthew was in awe of how detailed everything was. A golden chandelier hung from a ceiling decorated with painted clouds. The banister was overthrown by beautiful leaf carvings. Behind the two was a giant painting of a young man, with a similar appearance to Francis, overlooking everything in sight.

"Leaving so soon?" A familiar French accent asked.

"You're the one who told me to house him," Arthur responded. He flinched as Francis began to stroke his head.

" _Oui,_ although, I thought you already agreed to my offer of you staying here for the week,"

"I never agreed in the first place,"

"Yet you came,"

Matthew watched the two men converse. They weren't exactly friends, and they had mentioned that Arthur was his secretary, however they did seem a bit… intimate? It was confusing to say the least.

"What do you do exactly?" Matthew asked, causing the two to turn around. "As a profession that is,"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just, curious I guess," The Canadian wasn't exactly sure why he had so much interest. Possibly because whomever Francis was, Arthur worked for him. "You just seem a little… friendly with each other,"

The Brit's face turned bright red as the Frenchman just laughed.

"We have known each other for a while," Francis stated after he calmed down. "Although I'm certain neither of us wish the be imprisoned," Somehow, Matthew felt embarrassed for asking. "Answering your previous question, I control the import of the finest French wine." Francis walked down the staircase, gesturing for the two to follow. Eventually leading them outside where a carriage was being prepared.

"I thought you weren't expecting me to leave," Arthur questioned as one of Francis' butlers opened the door to the vehicle.

"I had planned to visit Yao, but with this new arrival, you might as well use it," Without saying another word, Arthur entered the carriage, Matthew close behind. The Canadian felt the butler stare at him strangely, most likely due to his weird clothing.

" _Merci_ ," Matthew said quietly as the butler closed the door.

"See Arthur, this boy has the decency to thank me, you could learn a thing or two," Francis smiled.

"In your dreams frog," Arthur sat down opposite Matthew. It didn't take much longer till the carriage started moving.

Matthew looked outside the window. The world outside so different to the one he knew. He had never been to London, but he had a feeling it didn't look like this. He turned back to the Brit in front of him, only to find him staring right back at him.

"Um, are you okay?" Matthew asked.

"I'm fine," Arthur muttered. The Canadian grew more and more uncomfortable with each second under the write- secretary's gaze. He soon noticed that Arthur had subtly taken out a pencil and began writing something in the cuff of his sleeve.

"What are you writing?"

"None of your business," Arthur pulled out what appeared to be a notebook from his bag and continued writing whatever he was writing earlier on a clean page.

"Are you sure you're not an author?"

"Listen, Matthew," Arthur set his notebook and pencil aside. "If I was an author, I would have written hundreds of books. I would write enough books to fill an entire section of a library. They might not even be the best books ever written but I would write them nonetheless. But the world isn't fair like that. You see, I don't have the same ideas as others, and anything different in this world is shot dead,"

"So, you want to be an author?"

The two were silent. Matthew began to feel guilty for his question as Arthur looked back at his notebook sadly.

"I suppose so," Arthur muttered, returning to his notebook and continued to write.

"I'm sorry for pestering you too much,"

"No, it's fine,"

Matthew looked down at his bag. The corner of the book poking out slightly. Pushing it back in, he looked back at the older man, really analysing him this time.

His blond hair was indeed messy. And his eyes were indeed like emeralds. But if his eyes were any less green and his hair any neater, Matthew had a feeling it would look… wrong.

The way Arthur held himself almost seemed familiar, along with the consistent frown that was painted across his face.

The carriage stopped and the two stepped out to see another building. However, it was far less impressive than the one belonging to Francis. It was, simple.

"Come on inside then, I'm sure my brother's old clothes will fit you," Arthur sighed. Opening the door. "Are you coming,"

"Uh, yes Arta,"

The Brit looked at him in confusion, but brushed it aside as the two entered the house.


End file.
